


Chaos Theory

by DeathMeetsLife



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AUs galore, Drabbles, F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 17,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathMeetsLife/pseuds/DeathMeetsLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War and Mischief can only bring about chaos. However, it is from the discord that everything beautiful is created. </p><p>LokixSif, one-shots and drabble compilation. AU and movieverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Found Love

**Author's Note:**

> Been writing these for awhile and am only just now posting them up here, so don't be surprised to see sudden writing style changes... in fact, expect them. Maybe I'll re-write some of them eventually... but probably not, because I'm extremely lazy and forgetful.
> 
> Cross-posted with ff.net and the fyeahlokisif tumblr. Suggestions and requests always welcome!

**We Found Love  
**

_-LokixSif Ghost AU_ -

_Now we're standing side by side_   
_As your shadow crosses mine_   
_What it takes to come alive_

Loki Odinson closed the door to his room, cautiously casting his gaze to the foot of the bed. There, like every other night before, Sif laid, her own eyes tracing his figure as he draped his coat over the chair.

"You seem tense."

The man allowed his mask to slip into place and a smile stretched his lips. "I don't know why you would think that."

"Others may not be able to see through your lies," she rose, gliding over the Victorian hotel's floorboards and keeping her dark hazel eyes locked with his bright viridian, "but I've seen much more than they."

Loki's grin turned into a grimace. "My father and brother… they're coming tomorrow." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "They'll be able to send you off properly."

"I see," she murmured. "Then… we still have tonight."

"Yes." He curled his fingers through her hair. "We still have tonight."


	2. Give Me a Sign

**Give Me a Sign  
**

_-LokixSif WWII AU_ -

_I can feel you falling away_  
No longer the lost   
_No longer the same_   
_And I can see you starting to break_   
_I'll keep you alive_   
_If you show me the way_

"What in the heaven's name were you thinking?" Sif exclaimed before he had even fully stepped through the doorway.

"Glad to see you, too, Dove," he muttered in reply, dumping his briefcase and keys on the table. "So you've heard, then?"

The woman folded her arms angrily. "Thor just called. He thinks you're mental. I'm starting to agree."

Loki heaved a sigh. Was everyone conspiring against him, now? "Sif, Thor's going, my father's going, even Fandral's given up his skirt-chasing to sign up!"

"You are not Thor, Loki!" He winced at the words, words that have been repeated too many times over the years. "You're not Fandral, or Hogun, or Volstagg or _your father_. You are not a soldier! You don't have to go to the front!"

The man looked down at his lean build and soft hands. Hands that had always been better at turning pages than throwing punches.

"You are a scholar, Loki," he looked up as her voice grew soft again. Her hazel eyes swam with desperate tears.

_Don'tgodon'tgodon'tleavemeherepleasegodno!_

He squeezed his eyes shut against her unspoken pleas and stood abruptly. "No, Sif. Not this time."

Her head fell into her hands as she released a ragged sigh. "Where will you be going?"

"France. We'll drive the Nazis back to the border." He quickly stalked out of the room, determined not to let his lover sway his decision.

Sif slowly lifted her face towards the ceiling. An angry tear traced its way over her high cheekbone before she hastily wiped it away. "Please, just let me know he'll stay safe. Give me a sign."

The ceiling was silent.


	3. Falling Up

**Falling Up**

_**-** LokixSif _ _Ragnarök-_

_The further I'm from you_  
The harder I try to exist  
Somebody tell me how did it come to this?

Loki felt the World Tree shudder as yet another god fell to the battle. In the distance, he could see both his father and brother battle off his sons - no matter the outcome, he would lose those dear to him.

He shook his head of his thoughts. He had known this was to happen. The Norns had predicted it so all those years ago… it had only been a matter time before the battle of Ragnarök was upon them.

Yggdrasil shook once more, startling Loki from his thoughts and prompting him to survey the chaos that had befallen Asgard. However, one lone figure stood out amongst the rest, and the god felt something squeeze in his chest as he watched her spin and slice through his destructive forces.

The gods, through the Norns' prophecies, already knew their survival or demise. Loki knew that this would be the last time he would gaze upon his Lady Sif, as the hour of his death crept upon him. Her name, however, had curiously never been mentioned by the fate weavers, and he hoped vehemently that she would survive the clash.

She looked up to his perch and locked eyes with him, and a flash of pain, a pain quite similar to his own, moved across her face. It was when Sif continued forward, hacking at the evils before her and driving herself further into their midst, that Loki realized she was slowly approaching his post, and he laughed. What irony! Would he die by the hand of the only one he had ever loved? Was he to be done in by the Goddess of War herself?

She was closer now, and he could see the desperation in every swing of her glaive. So he waited.

And she came.

Sif stood before him, heaving breaths falling from her lips. "Loki."

"Sif."

She raised her weapon, and Loki prepared for her final strike.

She threw it down.

The god's gaze went from her to her blade on the ground and back. "What in Hel's name are you doing?"

"I can't kill you, Loki," she spoke, the hardness in her eyes dissolving into an emotion that he could not bear to describe. "After all you've done, my love of you still outweighs my love of Asgard." A small smile graced her lips.

He stepped towards her. "Sif-"

The warrior's smile fell as she released a pained gasp, and her hand trailed down to the gash in her side.

"Sif!"

She fell to her knees and he caught her. _No! She was never on the prophecies to die; she was supposed to survive-_ The wound traced from below her smashed breast plate, across her ribs and onto her back, red life flowing from it freely.

"Loki." His eyes returned to her face, memorizing and re-memorizing every line and dimple. "We'll meet again."

He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Yes."

His gaze lifted. In the distance, he could see Heimdall approach.

He hugged his Lady once more.

"Yes."


	4. Haight Street

**Haight Street**

_-LokixSif College AU-_

_Let's leave this life behind, forgetting all they say._   
_The time we have, is time well borrowed._   
_Stay out all night; forget tomorrow._

_Old enough to know but too young to care.  
_

"Thor, honestly, I've an exam tomorrow in my Mythology class and I really don't have time for this-"

"Nonsense! No brother of mine is going to stay cooped up in his flat while everyone else has fun!" The blond clapped his brother on the back, causing him to lurch forward a few inches. Loki rolled his eyes and straightened his jacket.

His rambunctious older brother thought that he was spending too much time turning pages and not enough time turning heads. Before he'd known what was happening, he'd already been thrown into Thor's car as they made their way club-hopping.

As the pair entered the building, Loki could feel the bass vibrating through his skin. He shivered.

He preferred the library.

Thor apparently caught sight of his friends, for Loki once again found himself being pulled along, this time trying to squeeze through the masses of university co-eds drunkenly writhing on the dance floor. He lifted an eyebrow. _And they call that dancing…?_

"Volstagg! Hogun! Where's Fandral?" Thor greeted his friends, yelling to be heard over the music. The two simply nodded their heads over to the bar, where the blond playboy was obviously working the crowd of ladies surrounding him. He noticed Thor and Loki, sent them a wink, then returned his attention to the redhead leaning on his shoulder.

Thor laughed before spying someone entering the room. "Sif! Over here!"

"Who?" Loki questioned. As obnoxious as they were, he knew all of his brother's friends, whether he wanted to admit it or not; however, he'd never heard Thor mention a 'Sif' in any conversation.

"A friend from my kinesiology course, brother. Fun, but serious… I'm sure you'll get along!" He then turned to address this 'Sif' who had managed to come up behind him. "I didn't know you were coming out tonight! Sif, this is my brother, Loki… I've finally dragged him out of his books to act like a college student for a change!" He moved aside to introduce the two, and Loki felt his heart skip a beat.

It had nothing to do with the bass in the club.

A smirk lit up the woman's face, her eyes dancing with a fierce intelligence. "Surely, Thor, you could spend a few more hours than you do hitting the books." Her dark eyes locked with Loki's light as she extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Loki."

"Likewise."

He could stand to come out a bit more often, he supposed.


	5. If You're Gone

**If You're Gone**

_-LokixSif New York AU-_

_I think I could need this in my life  
I think I'm just scared - do I talk too much_?  
 _I know this is wrong, it's a problem, I'm dealing._

Her eyes swept over the crowd, moving over the Manhattan elite in a somewhat bored manner. Honestly, the only good part of coming to these events was to watch the drama that usually unfolded, but the atmosphere was relatively quiet tonight. She sipped her wine, swirling the Merlot slowly in its glass.

Sif thought back to that afternoon and snorted softly.

_Stop testing me, Sif! You can't inherit the company, so I might as well use you to build connections! That's all you would be good for, anyway._

Her father. She knew she could run the company better than anyone else he had on staff, but she could bide her time until the sexist imbecile came upon that realization on his own.

So here she was. _Socializing_. Making connections. Wanting to spontaneously combust.

Her hazel gaze finally set on a blond head moving through the crowd, and he waved him over. Once within respectable distance, she smiled. "Hello, Thor. Break any hearts tonight? I'm ready for a good show."

The man laughed, a deep, genuine sound that Sif couldn't help but liken to rolling thunder. "No, no, tonight's about my brother! He's come in from the Chicago branch, and I'm taking him around to meet everyone."

"Well, where is he?" She looked around, trying to spy the bright hair that seemed to be quite characteristic of the Odinsons. "I'm quite curious to meet this elusive brother of yours… I'm starting to believe he doesn't _actually_ exist."

"I assure you, I am no figment of imagination," the smooth voice startled her from behind, prompting her to turn to meet clear green eyes under dark brows. He smiled, offering a hand. "Loki Odinson."

"Sif Tyrson."

"I see, a daughter of the Glaive Corporation. Enjoying daddy's money, are we?" She could hear the tease in his voice and see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Er, I'll return in a while… I think I see Volstagg hitting the whiskey too hard," Thor excused himself, suddenly uncomfortable at the direction this conversation seemed to be running in. He dove once more into the crowd.

The woman finished off her wine, abandoning the glass on a passing waiter's tray. "More like _making_ Daddy's money. Making connections for my father… what every girl wants to do with her Friday nights."

"Having fun?" She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, _please._ " Sif was pleasantly surprised to hear the soft chuckle that slipped past his lips. "It's a rather dull chore that I'm sure a second-son can commiserate with?" _Oh, no. You've gone too far with it this time, Sif._

Instead of retaliating in insult, however, Loki seemed pleased with her sharp tongue, and he grinned wider. "Indeed, I can. Unlike you, however," he leaned closer to whisper softly into her ear, "I won't be using my new-found friends as backing to take over my father's CEO position."

Sif froze for a moment before a true smile worked its way across her lips as well. _Finally, some entertainment._

"How long are you in town for?"

"As long as New York will have me, I'm sure."


	6. Polaris

 

**Polaris**

_-LokixSif New York AU Part II-_

_You say that love goes anywhere._   
_In your darkest time,_   
_It's just enough to know it's there._

"So where are you taking me at," he glanced down at his watch, "six-thirty a.m.?"

"The roof."

Loki paused and his eyes comically widened as he watched her ahead of him. "…I knew it. You're going to kill me now."

Sif sighed, already accustomed to his sense of humor after the short weeks of knowing him. "Shut up and get your ass over here." He grinned, practically leaping up the steps separating him from the beautiful woman leading him.

The time he had been in New York had seemed almost like a whirlwind, and most of that time was spent with the fiercely intelligent woman before him. Although their time had been short, he already felt closer to her than anyone currently in his life, and he knew that what he felt towards her was more than just a sense of camaraderie. He mentally sighed. Nothing, surely, would come of it.

Sif caught his wrist and dragged him up to the landing, where she threw them through the unlocked door and onto the rooftop.

She smiled and stepped away from him. "Here we are." She raised her arms, turning away from him to walk over to the railing. "Your surprise!"

"You're giving me… New York City? I know your father's company is doing well, love, but I didn't think you would get me all of Manhattan for my birthday!" She sent a glare in his direction, but he did not ease the smirk on his lips. "Tell me, Sif," he joined her at the edge, looking over the top and into the street below, "why are we on top of your apartment building?"

"That's why," She pointed westward, ignoring the wind that whipped her hair around her face.

"What I am looking at?" His serious tone matched her solemn atmosphere as the man rubbed his hand in slow circles on her back.

She leaned into him, eyes never straying from their spot on the horizon. "You're looking at the completely unobstructed view from here to Chicago."

His hand paused, and he stepped away from her. In an almost too carefree gesture, he placed his hands in his pockets and looked away. A frown traced his lips. "Thor?"

She nodded, finally moving her eyes from the sky to his figure. Loki stood alone, a striking silhouette against the rising sun. "When were you going to tell me? Were you just going to leave without a goodbye of any kind?"

"I still have a couple of days."

Sif snorted. "I should be mad at you."

"Why aren't you?"

"I don't know." A sigh escaped her. "Maybe it's because it doesn't matter."

Loki felt his heart drop, but he bravely continued his aloof facade. "I see." He turned to leave the roof when her voice gave him pause.

"It doesn't matter," she hesitated. Was it too soon? _Screw it._ "It doesn't matter because, even though you're so far away, my love for you won't change." She closed her eyes. "And while you are far from me, I'll look toward the horizon and hope that you are looking towards me as well."

For a moment, the only sounds came from the awakening city and the wind that whipped around them. She waited, tense, but still no sound came from the man she had so quickly and so intensely fallen for.

She started as a silent pair of arms slid around her waist, pulling her back into his firm embrace. "I'll find some way to do so." His smooth voice reverberated in his chest, and she relaxed completely.

"Promise?"

His arms tightened as he dropped a kiss to her head, breathing in her scent.

"It's a promise."


	7. Minstrel's Prayer

**Minstrel's Prayer  
**

_-LokixSif College AU Part II-_

_Shelter me oh genius words,  
Just give me strength_  
 _Just to pen these things_ ,  
 _And give me peace to well her wings._

Loki let his head fall into his hands. Usually, the library was a sanctuary for him: quiet, deserted, and filled with the scent of old books. However, come the bi-annual occurrence of finals, his sanctuary turned into what he could only equate to Hel. His silence became chatter, his space became limited, and the scent of dusty novels turned into the scent of Old Spice on the perpetually confused jock seated next to him.

He looked up from his laptop to someone across the room.

_How does she do it?_

Sif somehow discovered the secret of blocking out all distractions, focused purely on the screen in front of her. As he watched her, Loki noticed that she looked completely immersed in her subject, occasionally turning to the blackboard behind her to work out an equation.

Loki smirked slowly. If he wasn't going to get any work done, he would make sure she wouldn't get any done, either.

A chat box for his instant messenger appeared on his screen. He frowned.

 **Sif** : whatever you're planning, don't even think about it.

He hastily wrote a response to which she responded quite quickly as well.

 **Loki** : who said I was planning anything? I'm studying for my Linguistics final tomorrow. Did I mention you look ravishing, my dear?

 **Sif** : Don't change the topic. I saw the look on your face. You're bored to tears and distracted, and you want me to be, too.

 **Loki** : You wound me.

 **Sif** : Nothing short of a bomb threat will get me out of this seat.

Loki lifted his eyebrows in thought. _That isn't too bad an idea…_

 **Sif** : Loki. No.

He sighed and rose from his seat, but not before threatening the jock next to him that he would lose use of his throwing hand if he messed with the scholar's possessions. Needless to say, nothing was disturbed.

He glided through the crowded library and sat against the edge of her table. "You take away all my fun."

"It's exams time, Loki," Sif muttered as she continued to type, not even sparing him a glance. "No one's supposed to have fun."

"Hm. Not even someone at the top of their," he looked at her notes, "History of Warfare class?"

"Especially not someone at the top of their HoW class," she sighed. "Not that I am. I'm pretty confident that Hogun beat me on that last test."

"I wouldn't be so sure." She gave him a warning look. "Oxford's mainframe isn't as hard to hack as you would think it would be."

Sif rolled her eyes, but her voice held the tone of laughter. "Loki!" She smiled, but then realized what he was doing. She narrowed her eyes. "Stop."

"What?"

"Distracting me!"

"You were the one that initiated contact, Dove. And if I remember correctly, you were also the one to suggest a break during these _trying times_ ," he teased, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Ug." She leaned back in her chair, glaring at him. "Just give me a kiss, and go back to work!"

"Yes, milady." She whacked him before leaning in to receive his soft lips. He chuckled against her mouth, and she hit him again before sending him on his way.

 _That's what I get for dating Loki_ , Sif supposed as she watched him return to his seat next to a frightened athlete. He winked at her, and her face heated up.

_Distractions!_


	8. Check Yes, Juliet

**Check Yes, Juliet  
**

_**-** LokixSif On the Run AU-_

_Run, baby, run,  
Don't ever look back,  
They'll tear us apart if you give them the chance._   
_Don't sell your heart, don't say we're not meant to be._   
_Run baby run, forever will be_   
_You and me._

"I don't understand," Sif spoke softly, running a hand through her dark hair. "It's not as if I've killed anyone!"

"It doesn't matter to them what you have or haven't done. It only matter's what they want others to think that you've done," Loki responded angrily, loading a new clip into his gun magazine, "and they want everyone to think that you've shot the Iranian ambassador."

Sif watched him as he moved about her apartment, loading up a couple of backpacks and duffle bags. Food. Clothes. Medical supplies.

Ammunition.

"So why are you here?" The man stopped what he was doing, bright green eyes tracing up to meet hers inquisitively.

"What?"

"They're trying to pin this on me. Not you or the rest of the team." She folded her arms. "If you do this, you're just putting yourself into their crosshairs."

Loki smiled. "Why? Because we're partners, Sif," he set down the duffle and crossed the room, gently grabbing hold of her arms, "and I refuse to let them kill you to make you the scapegoat of their actions."

She still looked unconvinced. "And the rest of the team?" She did not want any more of them involved if she could help it.

"Know nothing of what is happening. The kill order was only released to a few. I only know because of the filter software I placed in the mainframe." He leaned closer and pressed his lips in a firm kiss against her brow. "I won't let anything happen to you, Sif."

The agent allowed a small, tight smile to turn up her mouth. "Well, then. What are we going to do?"

He released her to return to his previous chore. "We," Loki tossed her a half-filled backpack, "are running."

A smirk crossed her features. "Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Sounds good to me."


	9. Heaven's Not Enough

**Heaven's Not Enough  
**

_-LokixSif Post-Thor Movie-_

_I'd fly away_  
to a higher plane  
to say words I resist  
to float away  
to sigh  
to breathe… forget

Sif was going mad.

In the short time of only a few weeks, it seemed as if all of Asgard had forgotten about their younger, darker prince. Yes, Thor and Frigga still mourned. Yes, Odin's eye clouded with regret with every glance he spared the bifröst. However, to all the other Æsir it seemed as if the mischief maker had never existed.

The Warriors Three were the worst. They merely avoided the topic entirely, although each had their own coping mechanisms. Volstagg, as always, immersed himself in food whenever the actions of the weeks past came up in conversation; likewise, Fandral drowned himself in mead and beautiful Æsir women. Hogun just looked at her blankly before reverting to explaining the archery techniques of the citizens of Álfheimr.

Others of Odin's court passed over the subject with more grace, somehow managing to praise Thor's abilities without acknowledging the involvement or existence of the second son.

So Sif shunned their company, instead only interacting with the royal family. She sparred with Thor, and she ate her meals at Odin's table. Afternoons were spent with the queen in her gardens, listening to and recounting stories of the scholarly son.

It was on one such afternoon - forty-three days since she had last laid eyes upon his face – that Frigga had been mostly silent during their stroll. Sif, not wishing to intrude upon her thoughts, respected the quiet until they sat on a bench overlooking Idunna's golden orchard.

"My Queen," she began softly, "is all well?"

A sad smile stretched Frigga's lips, and, in that moment, Sif realized that she had never seen the woman look so old.

"Nothing is well. Not whilst my son remains scorned and ridiculed from his actions in a position that I unfairly thrust upon him," Frigga murmured. Sif tried to meet her eyes, tried to discern the emotions flickering across their clear depths, but the queen refused to meet her gaze.

"What do you mean?" The question hung in the air for a moment, and the warrior realized how harshly her words had left her mouth.

"As my son and I watched over his father, I knew not how long the throne of Asgard would remain empty, should we have waited for him to awaken from the Odinsleep," she paused to compose herself after her voice cracked. Sif remain quiet, patiently waiting for her companion to finish speaking. "I bestowed upon him the throne and Güngir. With Thor gone, he was the rightful heir to the crown… he was no usurper as the other Æsir claim. I thought… I thought he could handle the responsibility, but," she wiped a tear from her cheek, "his actions were too hasty for one so recently crowned. With all that was happening, Asgard was not properly prepared for war against the Frost Giants… not emotionally, in any case. But I believe," the queen drew a shaky breath, "that, given just a little time, he would have made a fine king."

This time, her tears flowed unchecked. Sif clasped her hands around the queen's, almost to comfort herself as much as the grieving mother beside her.

"As do I, my Queen. As do I," she murmured gently.

Frigga recomposed herself, finally meeting the maiden's eyes for the first time since they had begun their walk. "I also believe that you would have made a fine queen to stand beside him," she spoke as her eyes filled with warmth. Sif blushed and bolted upright.

"My Q-queen-"

Frigga held up her hand against her protest. "I knew of your love for him before you did, my dear, as I knew of his love for you."

The brunette sat in quiet embarrassment, uncertain of how much the queen knew about her relationship with the prince.

"I know you mourn him as I do, Lady Sif, but I must ask you one thing." Sif looked up with inquisitive eyes. "Why have you yet to speak his name in his absence?"

She was about to protest the claim when she stopped herself. Was that true? She realized that it was – even in her private thoughts she had not dared to refer to her love by name. Why? Sif was not sure she knew, not sure if she _wanted_ to know, because –

"I miss him so much, it feels as if my chest is filled with a stone instead of a heart. I fear that if I speak his name, that heaviness would become too much for me to bear," she admitted, a little too watery for her own liking. She cleared her throat. "I fear that by speaking his name, I would have to recognize that the love that we shared is now fractured, and that he is now beyond my reach," Sif felt water on her cheeks, and she recognized them as the first tears she had allowed herself since his departure, "but it is pointless, my Queen, because, even without speaking his name, I know that I will never again touch his face and that this weight in my breast will only continue to increase until it crushes me!"

A hand fell upon her shoulder, but when Sif looked up, it belonged not to Frigga, but to the older prince. Thor pulled the stunned woman to her feet before wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"We'll find him, Sif," he murmured. "We'll bring him home. To Asgard. To you."

Completely drained, Sif buried her face in his broad chest. She felt Frigga lay a soft hand on her back. She steeled herself with their support. "I'm coming with you."

"Of course."

"I'll bring him back," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I'll bring Loki back."


	10. Holocene

**Holocene  
**

_-LokixSif Hipster!Loki, Athletic!Sif AU-_

_At once I knew I was not magnificent  
Hulled far from the highway aisle_   
_(Jagged, vacance, thick with ice)_   
_I could see for miles, miles, miles_

"Hey, Loki, have you seen Thor?"

Loki looked up from his book in confusion, removing the headphones from his ears. "Do I want to know why you have a key to our apartment?" He asked jokingly, but Sif could detect an underlying concern, to which she rolled her eyes.

"Door was unlocked, and I'm looking for your brother. He was supposed to meet me two hours ago at fencing with Fandral, but neither of them showed. I spent the entire time with Hogun. The conversation was..."

"Nonexistant?"

"Sparse." She swallowed. "To saw the least. You know how he is."

"Well, those two meatheads are probably with Volstagg at the bar. I overheard Thor raging about some New Years drinking specials... I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot to call you."

"Do they have any idea how busy my schedule is as a personal trainer? I clear a few hours once a week to fit them in for some 'fun' from our Academy days, and they just waste my valuable time! I cancelled the rest of my clients today just in case they decided to show... do you know how much that cost me?"

Loki allowed her to vent, calmly pushing his reading glasses to the top of his head. He sighed and, knowing that he would not get much more of his book read until the woman calmed down, closed his book. "Sif."

"...and some of my clients are training for the Olympic trials coming up! What should I tell them? I'll start losing their service left and right!"

He coughed, trying again a little louder. " _Sif_."

"...I'll be kicked out of my apartment! Thrown onto the streets!"

"SIF!" She stopped. "Take a breath." She did. "Now let it go." Again, she did. Loki stood from the couch and came before her, cupping her face in his long fingers.

"You are overreacting. Your clients love you, and I'm sure they are relieved for a short break. Keep breathing," he ordered when she opened her mouth to talk again. He studied her face and frowned at what he saw. "You've been overworking yourself again. This thing with Fandral and Thor was just the last straw on the camel's back, wasn't it? It's not completely unheard of for this to happen."

She released a breath, leaning into his hands. A light in her eyes teased him along with her words. "Can I stop breathing now?"

He smirked. "Preferably not completely."

"Shush." She pushed her head into Loki's chest and inhaled the familiar scent of cedar and dust. "I'm sorry," she admitted as his arms encircled his oldest friend. "It's just... you know how hard I've worked to get where I am. I feel sometimes that it's just a dream, and I fear that something with happen, and I'll awaken to reality."

"I know, I know," he comforted her. "We've all been in that position before."

"You work in a library."

"The National Archives," he corrected her. "A job I worked tirelessly to obtain, and one which I enjoy immensely. However, I know how much is too much when it comes to working, a distinction you seem to lack." Loki paused, mulling something over in his mind. Sif could only imagine the thousands of ideas and schemes he was sorting through before he decided on one to implement. "You need a break. You cancelled everything for today, yes?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Good. You're coming with me, then." He wrapped a scarf around his neck and grabbed his jacket as he pushed her through the apartment door.

* * *

"We've been driving an hour and a half in your beat-up Bug-"

"It's a classic-"

"-listening to a playlist you must have made when you were high-"

"That only happened once, and you broke that CD-"

"-with bands on it that don't even exist-"

"Just because they aren't mainstream does not mean they don't-"

"-and we are still in the middle. Of fucking. _Nowhere._ "

"It's worth it. Trust me."

"The last time I trusted you, you super glued my hands to my face."

"We were ten!" The scholar protested laughingly.

"I learned my lesson early." She looked out of the window of the car as it passed another clump of trees. "How much longer is this going to take? With my schedule clear now, I have a lot of errands I could finally be doing." Loki sighed but did not otherwise reply, and the pair fell into an easy silence. Sif had always been glad that Loki enjoyed the quiet comfortably, unlike Thor who felt the need to fill every lull in the conversation with an inappropriate joke or comment that he picked up in the locker room at the gym.

After only a few more minutes, the bouncing car came to a stop, and Loki hurried around to her door to prevent her from getting out.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"I want you to promise me that you won't look until I give permission."

"...Seriously?"

"Yes. It's very important." He tugged upon the door. "Now, close your eyes." Sif did so with a shrug, and she felt him pull her out of the car and lead her over uneven ground.

"...Are you ever going to let me open my eyes?"

"When it's time. Just be patient."

"To hell with patience. You're probably bringing me to some place to off me."

"As sorely tempted as I was on the way up, murdering you was not what I had planned for us today."

"So you brought me in the middle of nowhere for what? A surprise party? Is that why my eyes are closed?"

"Sif."

"Yeah?"

"Just stop arguing with me and look around you."

Sif opened her mouth to retort, but, as her eyes flew open, the woman became at a loss for words. The mid-morning sun set the stone under her aflame in color, filtering through the sparse cloud cover to fall upon an entire valley that unraveled at her feet. From where she and Loki stood, atop the pinnacle of one of the crags that jutted forth from the landscape, she was sure that she could see for miles upon miles, the land unbroken by building or machinery until it rolled under the horizon.

"Wow."

"Sometimes, Sif, when you get caught up in your work, your every thought comes around to yourself and your self-improvement, and you become completely selfish and think only about how things affect you." He chuckled at the annoyed look she cast in his direction but continued. "When that happens, you should come here. Here, you only need to look out, and you feel _so small_."

Sif smiled, feeling completely at ease for the first time in too long. The wind wound around them gently, not unlike peaceful snakes, before continuing over the ledge and down the cliff face. She slipped a hand into his. "It's a better feeling than I thought it would be."

His jade eyes lit up. "I'm glad. Just don't bring any people here."

She lifted a graceful eyebrow. "Oh?"

"If it becomes too popular, I'll have to find a new spot," he explained, fully put-off at the idea of having to do so. Sif shook her head in disbelief, but her grin remained on her lips as she tightened her fingers around his.

"...you really need to get out of this phase, Loki."


	11. Coming Home

**Coming Home  
**

_**-** LokixSif Post- Thor Movie **-**_

_The world tried to break me_  
I've found the road to take me  


_After all of my running_   
_I'm finally coming_   
_Home_

"So, this is where you've been hiding." Loki stiffened instantly, his back as straight as a rod. "You've always loved the irony of 'invisibility in plain sight,' haven't you?"

"My Lady Sif," he murmured, taking a sip from his champagne flute in an effort to appear nonchalant. With his poise and grace, it almost worked. "What brings you to Midgard?"

"Officially? Helping Thor and the team of strange warriors known as the Avengers," the woman spoke as she glided into place beside him. Her simple cotton gown whispered softly as it flowed over the marble floor. Loki smiled but did not look her way.

"Oh? Are you meaning to tell me that you've lied to the Allfather and your Queen?"

"No, indeed," Sif retorted smoothly, "for I am assisting with the Avengers by training them as the son of Coul has requested. However, I must confess that I did not divulge my… _ulterior_ motives to their Majesties before I descended on my mission." A small smirk played around her lips, one that seemed to be a ghostly mirror to the one that usually graced Loki's own mouth. He finally turned to face the shield-maiden, but his words were lost on his lips as he witnessed her in Earth's finery.

The pair stood in silence, the din from the gala in the other room a negligible white noise. Sif wet her lips, mentally testing her words before releasing them. "We want you back home, Loki."

"Maybe I am home. I have found that I quite enjoy Midgard these days," he claimed as he quickly drained the remainder of his beverage.

Sif let his words hang in the air, and she looked out through the window, over the city. She worried her lip. "Are you?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you home, Loki?" the woman clarified, looking upon his face once more. The man sighed as he twirled the crystal-ware between his fingers. A melancholy, self-depreciating smile worked its way onto his lips, but a smoldering anger lit his clear eyes.

"Alas, my dear Lady Sif, any place I go will very likely feel alien to me, I'm afraid." He hummed lightly to himself. "Therefore, I am more inclined to stay in the company of those in high society here. Might as well live comfortably, if not happily."

Her brows furrowed at his words and she clenched her hands. "You are being selfish," she ground out.

"I have never claimed myself to be selfless," Loki easily refuted.

"Then you must allow me a moment of selfishness as well," she warned as she grasped the lapels of his jacket, fiercely pulling him forward to meet his mouth with hers. After a moment of surprise and stillness, the man responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her waist and spanning his hands over her back.

As they pulled away, he pressed another chaste kiss to Sif's midnight hair, breathing in the scent that was so uniquely _hers_. "Can you rephrase your earlier statement?"

Sif smiled gently and leaned further into his embrace. "I want you back home, Loki."

She felt his chuckle rather than heard it. "Then I shall go where my lady wishes."


	12. Don't You Wanna Stay

 

**Don't You Wanna Stay  
**

_**-** LokixSif Western AU **-**_

_Don't you wanna hold each other tight?_   
_Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?  
_ _Don't you wanna stay here a little while?_   
_We could make forever feel this way_   
_Don't you wanna stay?_

Loki entered the empty stable, inhaling the soothing scent of hay and sawdust. Had it really been six years since he had left this place? One of the few things he could admit to himself that he truly missed during his absence was the proximity to the horses he helped to raise, the horses that he could ride across his family's expansive land until long after the sun had set.

He found the stall he had been searching for, and he removed the lead from the hook beside the door. He peered into the shelter and gave a soft coo. Within moments, an excited stallion was butting Loki's face with his own, breathing in the scent of the rider with happy whinnies. The man laughed, slipping the halter over his mount's head and leading him to a tacking station, when he realized he was not as alone as he had previously believed.

"And there he is… the _prodigal son_. Did it really have to take your father having a stroke to bring you back here?"

He sighed as he hefted the saddle and pad onto the horse's back. "Sif, I had heard from my brother that you're a hand, now. I guess he spoke truly. And you know very well that I handle all the outside business contacts and operations." He tugged the girth tight and buckled it. "I'm hardly _prodigal_ … or is this just your way of saying that you've missed me since I went off to Harvard?"

She leaned against the post and handed the leather bridle to the man as he slipped off the halter. He took in the sight of her, but dismissed the train of thoughts that immediately sprung to mind. "It seems your humor has gone a bit dry in your absence, Loki. I remember you being much funnier before you abandoned your family."

"And I remember you being much prettier. At least I know that I won't be tempted during my _short stay_ here on the ranch." He lead them out of the stable and into the sunlight, the morning air crisp on his cheeks.

She followed him out as she snorted unconvincingly. "Like _that_ would ever happen again." The woman paused, as if trying the words in her mouth before releasing them. "Please, Loki, don't insult my taste any more than you have."

"It may not be _you_ I'm insulting, milady," he sneered back. Sif was caught momentarily off guard at his self-depreciating tones, but the man continued. Their small, humorless jabs had just become something more serious than either wanted to admit. "It was my bad judgement to think that you cared enough to support me in my future."

Loki swung easily onto the back of his beast, who he turned toward the open pastures. He paused, however, a question that had plagued him for the past six years rolling off of his lips. "Just let me know one thing, Sif." He turned in his saddle to face the woman, who, despite his previous assertion otherwise, had grown even more beautiful than when he had left. "Was it the fact that I _left_ or the fact that I left _you_ that fuels your anger for me?"

Sif shifted uncomfortably. It was a subject that she had pondered endlessly, but could not come up with a solution that satisfied both her pride and her heart. "…Maybe a little of both?" she slowly admitted, finally looking up to meet his clear eyes.

They held their gazes, and something akin to understanding passed between them. Loki nodded decisively.

"Go ahead and saddle up, I'll wait for you by the East Gate." He started forward, missing the small smile that had made its way onto Sif's mouth. "Oh, and Sif?" She paused, looking back to the rider sitting easily astride one of the most temperamental horses in their stables as if he had never left.

"Maybe I'll stay a little longer than I was initially anticipating."


	13. Somewhere Only We Know

**Somewhere Only We Know  
**

_**-** LokixSif Modern Kid AU **-**_

_Is this the place we used to love?_   
_Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?_

"Loki! Where are we going?" The girl demanded as she hopped over a fallen log. The boy in front of her glanced back, a frown on his mouth at her impatience.

He wove under a thicket. "Shush, it's just up ahead!" Sif followed, pulling the twigs from her bright hair with a smile. She always loved playing in the woods on the Odinsons' estate, and she, Loki, and Thor spent almost every summer afternoon in its shade. The tomboy could not count how many times they had gone on adventures or climbed to the canopies of the tall trees that made up the forest.

Although she loved roughhousing with the elder brother, she also greatly enjoyed her softer friendship with Loki. While Thor burst with exuberance, Loki radiated a quiet energy, which could be something more refreshing than most would think.

She looked behind her briefly, and quirked an eyebrow. The trio had _always_ been careful to stay in sight of the manor. Sif wondered just how deep into the sea of trees they had wandered. "...I can't even see your house anymore. How much further into the woods are we going? If you fall and break your face, there'll be no one here to help you, you know."

"You'll be here," he shot back with a chuckle. Sif smiled. She had always liked the sound. It was different than his brother's - Thor laughed hard and laughed often. With Loki, Sif felt a small sense of triumph whenever his soft laugh escaped his lips.

"Maybe. Maybe I'll just laugh."

Another smothered sound of excitement. "And my parents say _I'm_ the mischievous one." He skipped over an exposed root.

"You _are_. I heard that you put glue on Thor's chair last night before dinner. They had to cut his pants off!" She pushed a branch away from her face.

"Weeeeeell, Mother is always complaining that he never sits still long enough to have a decent meal." A large grin replaced the small smile on his face. The boy sniggered softly. "You see, Sif, I was just helping him enjoy some family time."

"I also heard that _you_ were grounded after that. _You're_ not supposed to leave the house until Monday when school starts up again."

"And yet, here I am." The grin became a self-assured smirk, and he paused beneath one of the largest oaks Sif had ever seen. "And here we are."

Sif stared at the bark. "What's so special about this tree?"

Loki walked behind her with a sigh. "It's not the _tree_ that's so special, Sif... it's what is _in_ the tree." He took her head and tilted it up towards the branches.

It took her a moment to acclimate to the sunlight filtering through the leaves, but she saw his surprise after a moment. "Is that...?"

"Yes."

An old tree house sat nestled between the trunks of the surrounding oaks, almost completely camouflaged by the leafy canopies. It was decently sized, and, as far as Sif could tell from the ground, free of rot.

"How do we get up to it?" The blonde murmured in awe. Loki released her and grabbed one of the knotholes in the giant oak's trunk.

"Oh please, I know you must be half squirrel. I've seen you scurry up these trees like one many times before."

Sif ignored his veiled compliment as she began scaling the trunk. "Does... anyone else know about this?" She managed to puff out as she hauled herself over a branch. She felt her shirt snag and tear on the bark, but she could not bring herself to really care that much.

Loki had already reached the door, pushing it open to climb inside. "Nope! It's ours. It can be our secret place." He reached down a pale hand, and she took it, pulling herself up through the trapdoor and into the structure. "Look - I've already started adding a personal touch to it!" He laid on the floor, hands folded on his stomach. Sif followed his line of sight and snorted at what she found.

"Loki, is there any place that you will not hide your books?" He shook his head as a negative, and she let loose an excited laugh. She flopped down next to him, and her gaze fell through the open window. She knew without standing that if she looked out of it, she would be able to not only spot Loki's and Thor's house, but probably her own as well. A small smile slipped onto her lips. "So... our secret place, huh?"

"Yes. So don't tell Thor... he'll ruin it."

"Alright. Somewhere only we know."

"Somewhere only we know," Loki agreed, and they shook on it.


	14. Ghost of You

**Ghost of You**

_**-** LokixSif Suspense AU **-**_

_The ghost of you is all that I have left  
Is all that I have left of you to hold_   
_I wake in the night to find there's no one there but me_   
_and nothing left of what we were at all_

He startled as a bullet whizzed past his head. "What the-?" The crowd scattered at the gunshot, screams and cries echoing off the narrowly spaced buildings. Loki felt a hand grip his arm and pull him through the throng.

More gunshots. More screams.

He fell into an alley, and the young scholar supported himself on the wall; however, his reprieve was short-lived as the hand around his arm tore him away from his crutch, and into the back-alleys of Paris.

Now, separated from the crowd, Loki looked at his savior - not that there was much to see. Her hair and face was shadowed by a headscarf, and the only view he had was from behind. But still, she seemed familiar to him, despite her mystery.

The couple drew to a stop behind a small patisserie, and the man could smell the fresh pastries baking inside. His mind, however, was with the woman, would had yet to turn to face him.

"Why have you taken me here?"

"The shooters were after you. They don't know these streets as well as I do. This is the safest place for now," the woman replied before starting forward. "Stay here for about a half hour, then get on a plane and go back home. This city is no safe haven for you."

"Wait! You're really going to leave me with that? Shooters after me? Don't be ridiculous! And who are you to be giving orders to me, anyway-"

"Just _go_!" The woman tensed, her hands clenched at her sides.

Loki growled. "No." He reached out, grasping her shoulder tightly. "And you're going to show me just who the hell you are."

He spun her around, pushing her against the brick of the shop, and froze.

She stared up at him with determined hazel eyes, her lips set in a stubborn line that he recalled kissing away many a time before. Loki dropped his hand a backed away.

"…Sif?"

"Loki, I can explain-"

"Explain what? How my dead wife is back from the _grave_? Please, _enlighten_ me!" She remained silent, but her eyes broke from their gaze upon his. "You are _dead_ , Sif. I saw you _die_. I held your hand! I was _there_!"


	15. Days Go By

**Days Go By**

_**-** LokixSif On the Run AU Part II **-**_

_A new day rises above  
With the wind it comes to carry you back home_

_What you had and what you lost_  
They're all memories in the wind  
Those days go by  
And we all start again

Sif sprinted through the alleyways of Budapest, not daring to spare a glance behind her. She knew they were there; the two agents heading the agency's "retrieval" team had caught wind of her and her partner in Prague, and they had been on their trail since. That morning, the team had finally caught up. In the ensuing chaos, she had lost Loki.

After the pair had taken to the wind nearly eight months ago, the former agent realized just how valuable a friend and partner Loki truly was. He had always kept somewhat to himself before, allowing Thor to bathe in the spotlight. His hacking and sniping skills, however, were unparalleled, which had allowed the two of them to live comfortably as ghosts for as long as they had.

And now, she had no way of knowing where he was.

Would she ever again see his eyes aglow with mischief as he pilfered a pair of plums from a street vendor, just because she had looked longingly at them for a moment too long?

Had he been captured?

Had he been killed?

Sif knew she shouldn't be panicked. She was a proven soldier in her own right, and she could evade the retrieval team successfully on her own. So why could she not stop the horror that coursed through her veins?

The alley ended, opening onto a large flea market. The woman maneuvered deftly throughout the stalls, grabbing a scarf and shirt as she went. Ducking into a recessed doorway, she quickly traded her white button-down for the emerald tunic and covered her hair with the patterned silk before stepping back into the crowd.

* * *

Loki drew his breaths slowly and quietly. He had identified the agent that had stuck with him quite easily, and he knew how he operated. They did, after all, attend sniper training together. Clint Barton. A man Loki had always considered a close colleague and – dare he say it? - friend. However, he knew Clint to be unfalteringly loyal to the agency, and Loki knew that there was no chance that the other agent would set aside his emotions for the sake of a mission.

So he hid.

The lanky hacker chose to hole up in the attic of an old bakery close to the river after he had been separated from Sif.

He still cursed himself for that.

He should have never allowed her to be separated from him. After all the time the two of them had spent as phantoms, they had gotten their escape routes and evasive maneuvers down to a science, working in perfect tandem to escape the clutches of Barton and his team. Despite the scenarios he continually ran in his mind, Loki could not figure out how their pursuers had gotten the jump on him and Sif this time.

Loki took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scents of the bread rising below him.

The building creaked as a gust of wind blew off the river. Most would have dismissed the noise on the ancient building structure, but Loki knew better and silently drew the knife from his boot until he felt the cold muzzle pressing against the nape of his neck.

"Drop it."

Loki smiled. "I must say, Agent Barton, you have definitely improved your stealth skills. Been training with Agent Romanov?"

"As much as I'd love to chat, Loki, I would suggest you first drop your weapon."

Loki silently tossed the dagger out of reach. It did not really matter, anyway – he had at least seven more hidden on his person. He turned as his captor removed his weapon and holstered it. "Where is the rest of your team?" His hand inched toward the waistband of his pants, toward the second and third blades placed there. He was prepared for any possibility.

"Stateside. Informing the agency of your confirmed deaths in the Czech Republic a week ago." The man folded his arms across his chest.

Loki froze. He had not anticipated this.

* * *

Sif startled as she was pulled unceremoniously into an empty house, but was within moments training her pistol on her assailant.

"Good afternoon, Natasha."

The redhead smiled serenely. "Sif. You know as well as I do that your little toy will not be of any use."

"Then humor me by allowing me to keep it."

"Very well," Natasha shrugged, dropping into a floral upholstered chair and crossing her legs easily. "Keep your toy, but we need to have an adult talk."

The brunette's scowl deepened. "Are you calling me a child?"

"I'll stop when you quit running like one." The women continued their stare-off until Sif relented and fell into the waiting loveseat across from Natasha, who smiled with closed lips. "I'm not here to kill you. Clint has caught up with Loki and is explaining the same to him."

Sif tensed at the idea of her companion under the scrutiny of his fellow sniper, but she shook the worry away. He could take care of himself; she could as well. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion of the agent's words. "Why should I believe you, the Black Widow, or any of your words? You are a _spy_ , Natasha. You lie for a _living_."

"You have lived with Mister Odinson for quite a while, Sif. I'm sure you have learned to see through whatever fallacies I would have told you."

Sif remained unconvinced. Yes, she had learned to read _Loki_ , who was thoroughly trained in espionage and had a gift with his silvertongue, but Natasha Romanov was another matter altogether.

The agent sighed and withdrew something from her pocket, tossing it across to the fugitive. "This contains any and all documents, records, and surveillance footage associated with the assassination attempt of the Iranian ambassador and the subsequent cover-up by the agency and the United States government." Sif looked at the memory stick. Her breath caught in her throat. "That little flashdrive holds your freedom."

Silence fell over the room. When Sif finally managed to find her voice, she could not think of words to utter. Until, "Thank you," and "Why?"

The placating expression on Natasha's face softened to something more genuine, a note of sadness sliding unbidden into her words. "You were my friend, Sif. I don't have very many of those, and I'd like to keep the few I do have alive, if I can."

A smile stretched Sif's lips. "I'd much like that, as well." A true grin formed on Natasha's mouth, as well as a short chuckle. "Where are they?"

"Hopefully heading towards the rendezvous point," the redhead replied with a glance at her watch, "if they haven't killed each other, yet. I've never really understood their friendship."

"We shouldn't keep them waiting, then."

* * *

Loki rubbed his shoulder, where a bruise was quickly forming in the shape of Clint's fist, although he knew that doing so would do nothing to soothe the ache. The way Barton rotated his jaw in pain, however, did make him feel a little better.

"Loki!"

The man turned at the gleeful shout that rang across the small park, an answering shout forming in his throat before his partner slammer into his chest. "Oof!"

"We're free, Loki! We're done."

He allowed his arms to drape around her waist and took a deep breath. The air felt the same, but it somehow tasted sweeter nonetheless. Loki dropped a soft kiss to her hair, watching her as she pulled to stare into his clear eyes.

"Free, huh?"

She smirked, grabbing his shirt collar roughly. "Yup. And now that we are…" she yanked him down to meet his lips in a kiss, which he smiled against gladly. Freedom, he decided, was well worth the wait.

"Come on, you lovebirds, let's go back to your nest so you can pack up to go home."

Natasha poked his purpling jaw. "Shut up, Clint."


	16. Star of Yggdrasil

**Star of Yggdrasil  
**

_**-** LokixSif and Ullr-_

"I've set up a house for you in Álfheimr. It's not much, but it will ensure the safety of the both of you during this time of... vulnerability." Sif squeezed their clasped hands tightly, completely unused to being treated like something so _fragile_ , so delicate (outside, of course, the moments wrapped in his bed silks and lithe arms).

"And what will I tell the king? And Thor and the Three? I cannot simply disappear without anyone's knowledge, Loki. I have my oaths, you know this."

The prince traced his thumb over her white knuckles. "Inform not them, but my mother. Simply explain to her that you must uphold a duty to yourself before you can uphold the duty of a warrior of the realm. She will understand, and she will pass the knowledge on to Odin. If my brother and the Dolts Three learn of this, 'tis no matter - they would know, anyway, in time." Loki's eyes watched her lips as she set her teeth upon them and nervously worried them as she mulled over his suggestion. "Worry not, Dove," he murmured as he traced her mouth with his thumb, freeing her lips from any further assault, "all will be well. As I told you when this began, it remains your decision as to whether we are acknowledged by the court. This new development has not changed my sentiments; rather, it has strengthened them. I will do whatever you ask on this matter."

She nodded, and raven strands fell into her face. "No, you are right. Let this remain private. Let this remain _ours_." She took his hand, already clasped in hers, and laid it gently over her still-smooth abdomen. "What do your magics tell you?" Sif asked quietly, but not shyly. The tone was one of intimacy, not hesitation.

"This early? Not much," he smiled, splaying his fingers and reaching out with his senses. "Good health. Strength. Intelligence. By the _Norns_ , Sif," he quietly exclaimed and dropped to his knees, "this child will be so brilliant it will outshine every star in Yggdrasil." His forehead pressed next to his hand, and he sighed as she curled her fingers into his tamed hair. "The Nine Realms do not hold any treasure greater than you do at this moment."

They remained in silence, the quiet blanketing over them as they relished their new beginning.

"I will go to your safehouse. On the condition that I may bring my glaive."

Loki met her eyes as they gleamed in the dusk light that fell through the open window. "I would have you no other way, my Lady."


	17. Child of Yggdrasil

  
__****  
**Child of Yggdrasil  
**   


_**-LokixSif and Ullr Part II-  
** _

“I do deny knowledge of this child.”  
  
Ullr’s breath stuck in his throat at his father’s statement. His father, who would laugh and throw him into the air; his father, who had allowed him to fall asleep on his chest to the thud of his heart; his father, whose eyes had gleamed with wonder when his son had magicked the water in his goblet frozen for the first time.  
  
His father, who had just disavowed him in the court of the elven king.  
  
“Do you truly?” the king slid his eyes from the boy to the prince, a cruel tone accenting his tongue. “He was caught magicking the stags in my forest. Their antlers leafed out much like the very trees that surrounded them. Now tell me, trickster, how am I to hunt my lands if my prey has been made impossible to see?”  
  
“I do not see why I should care,” Loki drawled, studying his nails in the filtered sunlight of the throne room, “as I am not the hunter, and they are not my prey. Perhaps you should better hone your skills, and those of your huntsmen… it seems as if they have grown fat and lazy, with all your bountiful game ready to be harvested from your ripe forests at will. In fact, it seems to me as if they are no longer huntsmen at all,” he carried on, never minding the slowly-reddening complexion of the being before him, “rather, I should call them ranchers, as there doesn’t seem to be much sport in the collection of your bounty; all there is to do is round them up for the slaughter.”  
  
The once aloof king grit his teeth in frustration. Ullr was sure that he could count the veins that stood out on his forehead in stark relief to the otherwise smooth skin. “Nevertheless, Silvertongue, this boy has shown considerable knowledge of the magics for his age, a talent so profound that has not been documented since you, yourself, was a simpering whelp. Do you deny your relation to him, even knowing what I have perceived? Talent such as his could only be hereditary and cultivated from a young age.”  
  
“I have never before seen such a child beside myself, though it certainly comforts me that I have a kindred spirit in my presence. However, my words remain the same; I do so deny this child of Yggdrasil,” Loki spoke as if surprised, and Ullr felt a knot form in his stomach that had nothing (alright, mayhaps a little) to do with the naked dagger at his throat and the heavy grip upon his shoulder. “It seems as if he were a prodigy, indeed.”  
  
The elven king narrowed his eyes, attempting to discern the falsehoods that Loki continued to weave, before grunting in a manner that reminded the boy, despite the elegance and luxury with how the elf presented himself, of a boar hog. “Indeed.”  
  
“And as such,” Loki continued, unflinching in the elf’s accusative tone, “he would undoubtedly be of great importance to the Realm Eternal and to Yggdrasil as a whole.”  
  
“Now see here!” the king jolted from his throne and roared his resentment.  
      
“I shall take him myself to be tutored by the finest scholars Asgard and Vanaheimr has to offer. You there, underling, release him. He is now in my custody,” Loki jerked his chin impatiently. “Come now, sheathe your dagger. T’would do you poorly against a sorcerer of any type, especially one who has already manifested such a prowess for the arts.”  
  
“He is my prisoner, Liesmith, and I will do with him as I-“  
  
“Now, that’s where you’re wrong, _elf_.” The king froze, and the color seemed to drain from his face.   
  
Ullr had never before seen his father’s eyes glint like hardened steel nor heard his father’s voice crack like a whip cutting air.  
  
He was not sure he ever wanted to again.  
  
Loki drew himself to his full height, posture belying power and demanding obedience. His emerald eyes turned jade, as hard as his voice. “I am Loki Odinson, first of his name and second prince of the Realm Eternal, son of the All-Father, the protector of realms, and the All-Mother, who weaves the Fates upon her loom. I am a warrior proven and a sorcerer sound. You will cease to disrespect my person and discredit my name. My word is law, and I have transferred the custody of your prisoner to myself, and so he is such under my jurisdiction. Release my ward to me, _now_.”  
  
The king, scarcely, it seemed, daring to breathe, turned his wide-eyed gaze to the guard clutching Ullr and nodded, a short jerk of his head. The dagger was withdrawn and his shoulder released, and the boy all but ran to his father’s side. He looked up at the man who he had only before seen laughing a smiling warmly, but who now wore a face as hard as stone and spoke with words tipped in black ice.   
  
“When you requested my presence and I granted you audience,” the king flinched at the phrasing, as if he had completely forgotten his station in his haste to besmirch the name of the younger son of Odin. Loki ignored him, “you inquired as to my knowledge of this child, and I denied it. You questioned me again, and I had replied that I did deny knowledge of the child. You questioned me thrice, twice more than the appropriate courtesy of a host to a visiting son of Asgard.” Loki spoke in a lighter cadence, but the power in his words remained. Ullr felt a hand rest kindly on the nape of his neck. “Did you think me a fae, king? Question me thrice, and the truth would be revealed to you?” A hint of laughter spiked his words, cold and cruel. “I am of no Seelie or Unseelie Court, I assure you, _elf_. I am much worse.” The king shuddered in his place, finally allowing himself to fall back into his throne and wallow in his shame.  
  
Loki squeezed his son’s neck lightly. “Ask me again, _Oh Great Elf King_. Ask me _of what I know_.” His words were a command.  
  
The king, who had roared his embarrassment only moments before, spoke in a cowed voice, high and reedy, “Do you deny knowledge of this child?”  
  
The steel facade vanished from Loki’s face, leaving the man whom Ullr had seen enter the throne room. “I most certainly do not, for he is my ward. Much thanks for retrieving him for me, but I am afraid that our departure is nigh. Goodday.” The prince turned himself and his son, striding forward to exit the throne room.  
  
“W-wait!” The king seemed to surprise himself with his protestation, if the scared-stiff elf was any indication to Ullr as he looked over his shoulder. Loki paused. “What of my stags?”  
  
“Hunting is a sport that many enjoy. It seems as if my ward has done you a service by returning that enjoyment to you and your people. Goodday, Elf King,” Loki called out as he strode forward again, “do not request my presence again, for you shall not have it.”   
  
_No_ , Ullr thought with the parting sight of a humiliated king and a stunned court, _the elf king certainly would not request such an audience again._


	18. More Than You Even Let On

**More Than You Even Let On**

**_-_ ** _LokixSif Western AU Pat II_ **_-_ **

“Are you _insane_?!”

“Ah, Sif! Just the person I didn’t want to see! Please excuse me while I continue to avoid you,” Loki muttered as he finished tacking up his mount. He gave Sleipnir a pat on his flank for good measure before swinging into the saddle. Before he could take off, however, Sif claimed hold of the stallion’s reins.

“You’re just going to hire yourself out on commission around here? You don’t think that Laufey’s going to snap you up and pull all your time away from your father’s ranch? You _know_ that you are the only one who could possible make since of the chicken scratch you call ‘calculations’ in that ledger of yours.”

“I _think_ ,” Loki bit out tersely, “that this is a valuable opportunity to balance the books at our rivals’ ranches and judge where-abouts they are financially. Sif,” he leaned down, his arm draped across the pummel horn, “I’ve made Asgard into a well-oiled _machine_. It doesn’t matter if I leave for however long Laufey and his group of thugs want to steal me. The system will continue on the ranch, which will continue to prosper. Meanwhile, Laufey will think he’s stolen a valuable asset of my father’s, and I will be gaining information to better strong-arm him _out_ of the business.” He sat up once more, looked almost regal as he yanked the reins from Sif’s grasp. “Through purely legal means, of course. Now, if you wish to continue this conversation, you know where I’ll be.” He urged Sleipnir forward, bursting toward the gate.

Sif watched as the prize jumper cleared the fence, a pinched expression on her lips.

Maybe she should take another look at his chicken scratch.

* * *

She found him hidden amongst the tall grasses and cattails as he laid next to his favorite pond, staring up at the clear Colorado sky. He laid there, comfortable in his green gingham and blue jeans, with a faraway look in his eyes. A dry grass hung between his lips.

“Hey.”

The only indication that he has heard her was the momentary tightening of his mouth. She took that as a good enough sign, and sunk down next to him on the bank. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew Loki’s moleskine notebook, tapping it against her knee as she thought how to phrase her apology.

“You should have told us about this.” She winced at her words. Apparently, she was incapable of apologizing, but that was not new information to Loki, and he looked like he knew what she meant.

He continued to worry the straw, although his gaze was now trained on her. To Sif’s credit, she did not meet his investigative gaze; instead, she just closed her eyes and listened to the sounds that surrounded her.

After she counted what must have been the tenth mockingbird jape, he spoke, his voice smooth silk over her ears.

“I should have never come back from Harvard.”

“You did what you thought was right, Loki. We all understand that, now.”

“No, I should have just stayed away. I left for a reason – I should have never convinced myself otherwise and returned.”

She sat up, twisting to meet his eyes, but he had shifted his gaze to a pair of swallows across the water. “Hey.” He ignored her. “ _Hey._ ”

“Hay is for horses.”

Sif scowled. “Don’t be cute.” She looked over and saw a fleeting smile play across his features. “Come with me,” she stood, yanking him to his feet. He yelped in surprise as he stumbled forward. Sif walked straight past Sleipnir and her mare, still tugging insistently on Loki’s hand, and continued up the rise of the box canyon until the pair found themselves crossing over the top of the ridge. “Look.”

He gaped at her, bewildered. “What-”

Sif grabbed his face and turned it away. “ _Look._ ”

The entirety of the ranch spread out before them, ridges and valleys, rising and falling in successive harmony. The green of the pastures smoothed into the waving gold of the crops at the horizon, where the climbing mountains reached toward the sky.

“You protected this, Loki. Granted, it wasn’t in a way that I nor your brother nor you father would condone, but it was because of _you_ that Laufey was unable to gain control of your family’s land. I know this. _Thor_ knows this. _He knows_ that what you did, you did for the good of Asgard, because you love this land. We know that you do, more than you even let on. So just remember that, okay?” She implored. Loki turned his attention back to her. His mouth twitched slightly upward.

“Okay.” He interlaced their fingers.

Sif nodded. “Good. Race you back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno why it took me so long to post this, sorry!


	19. Marriage of Convenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For bechedor79, who won third place in the fyeahlokisif400 contest and requested “marriage of convenience." AU where Sif is a Lady from Vanaheim and Loki is done with his mother playing matchmaker.

**Marriage of Convenience**

The glade gleamed, sunlight bouncing softly off of the jade and malachite leaves and sparkling on the still waters of the nearby lake. Loki picked his way around bushes and boulders to his favorite spot - a moss-covered patch under the centuries-old oak - and settled in gratefully. The man allowed the hum of nature to envelop him, much preferring the quiet company of the birds and the squirrel’s chittering to the false laughter and pomp of the court. As much as he adored his mother, Frigga’s meaningful glances every time he conversed with a lady was truly beginning to grate on his already-frayed nerves. Even tucked away in the royal library, it seemed as if he were constantly barraged by other readers and those who would seek his favor, which prevented him from concentrating on his studies.

Waving a hand, the prince magicked a dusty tome from a pocket dimension, where he had tucked it away earlier that morning in the event that he would need to escape to his oak. He carefully picked through the pages - the edges of which were crumbling even under his delicate touch - until he found his last stopping point and happily leaned against the soft wood of his oak.

His reprieve only lasted a few pages, however, until he noticed the lack of woodland chatter that usually pervaded the background. Tucking the tome away once more in the pocket - it was far too fragile to leave to the elements - Loki unfolded himself and ventured from his sanctuary to investigate. Fortunately, he did not have to search far; the sound of another in his glade, as well as the swinging of a blade, reached his senses. Creeping forward, he leaned around the trunk of a maple to identify the trespasser.

A young woman, a few years past courting age, went through the practiced motions of one who had been born with a sword in hand. A waterfall of dark waves fell from the leather band that held them away from her face, although it seemed that a few strands had escaped the tie during the course of her rigorous exercise. Recognizing the warrior, Loki made his way unnoticed around the tree and settled himself comfortably in its shade.

"My Lady Sif," he called out from his shadow. The woman very nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise before whirling on the prince. She recognized him and, releasing a tense breath, pushed her sword point into the soft ground. “Have you had enough of the Aesir Court already? Surely your entourage had other engaging ways of passing your time while in Asgard," Loki teased, enjoying the way the lady’s expression skewed with mention of her attendants.

"My Lord," she groaned between clenched teeth, “may I inquire to your presence here?"

"Of course you may," he retorted with a smirk, “though I may not give you an answer." She gave him a long-suffering look. “I was reading," he winked. “I, too, hold no love for the court and its games. Now, may I inquire as to _your_ presence, my Lady? You are surely missed at this time."

"I," Sif relented, leaning against the hilt of her blade, “am biding time until my return to Vanaheim. My mother intends for me to be presented to the court and find suitors, but I would much rather pledge myself to my blade than to any man." She sighed, uprooting her weapon and holding it aloft. The filtered sun danced along its razor edge, the light deceptively soft. “Unfortunately, it should seem that these _… visits_ would continue until my mother is content, and that will not be until I am wed. Once I am wed, I will be confined to a life of housekeeping and drudgery, and I will be anything but content."

Loki eyed her critically. Although Sif was born a lady of a high house of Vanaheim, it was no lady that stood before him, chest heaving with dirt dusting her arms. No, it was a noblewoman of another sort - one that draped herself in chain-mail rather than silks, and painted in not oils but blood. “And what, pray tell, would make you so?"

Broken from her thoughts, as though she had forgotten that he still sat beneath the grand maple, she lowered her sword. “My Lord?"

"Content. What would make you content?"

She appeared stunned at first, and Loki supposed no one had asked her before. “Adventures. Quests. Freedom to do as I would, without the scrutiny of my mother or the chains of a narrow-minded husband. However, I can not be free from one without binding myself to the other, and as such will never find contentment," Sif ended in a growl, glaring down at the loam under her feet. 

After a moment of contemplation, the prince rose from his place and approached the swordswoman. “Would you consider a proposition? I believe it would be mutually beneficial, my dear Lady Sif."

* * *

The din of the assembled court echoed through the antechamber, despite the closed doors. Two figures waited before them, their exaggerated shadows stretched against the golden sheen.

"Are you prepared, my Lady? Turn away now, you may still become a proper wife to another lord," Loki murmured to the woman beside him.

Draped in white and gold finery and crowned in the jewels of her house, Sif looked a far cry from the warrior in the glade. As her gaze met his, however, her spirit and steely resolve shone through. A confident smirk graced her lips as she quirked an eyebrow.

"And you, my Lord? Surely you wish for a simpering lady to mend your tunic after your danger-filled excursions to the glade. Are you certain you would take a swordswoman such as myself?"

Loki hummed happily, turning his gaze towards the entrance to the grand hall. He offered his hand, and Sif laid hers confidently over it. “I believe such a match shall be well-met, indeed."

He glanced to his bride as the golden doors swung open. “I believe," she murmured with an upward turn of her lips, “that I shall be content."

Loki grinned.

They stepped forward.


	20. Fragility Redefined

 

The first thing that he noticed was that she was small. Not relative to him, of course, but he was an exception among his towering brethren, and he had never seen another of his stature; Jotunheimr held very few trading partners (a foreign policy issue he was currently in the process of mending, though the progress was about as slow as the lumbering beasts that dwell in the Ironwood) and his only real contact with outside realms was in the dealings with the Light Elves, whose tall, willowy ambassadors still bested him by a head, at the very least.

She was small, but she was far from frail.

Even in the frozen halls of Utgard, she stood proudly, draped comfortably in her layers of furs even as her eyelashes froze from the cold. Her company, a voluminous, red-haired man, a dainty Aesir swordsman, and a warrior from Vanaheimr shivered and cast their eyes about the throne room. Her eyes, however, strayed from his father’s only once, to take notice of the small prince draped across the stairs at his father’s feet, before she bowed lowly (respectfully, something he had not quite expected considering the Jotun’s past with Asgard) and addressed the Jotun king. 

"King Laufey, it has come to Odin Allfather’s attention that you are forging ties with some of the other realms, and I have been sent as to inquire about your intentions in doing so."

Laufey leaned forward and hissed in distaste at the mention of the Allfather. “What are you called, little emissary?”

"I am Lady Sif, shieldmaiden of Asgard. The other members of this party are-"

"I care not of them, Lady Sif. Countless of my warriors, as well as my innocent subjects, have fallen to many an Aesir man, and I would not deal with them. No, but I will speak with you, shieldmaiden. You are the only one in your company that has not slighted my people, and I need only know the name of whom I am addressing." The king stood from his throne and looked down his nose to the woman. "My realm is my own, is it not in my interest to create allies? Or would Odin _Allfather_ prefer that we rot in our frigid walls, ignorant of the outside realms and stagnant of progress? I think that should keep us more than under his thumb- more accurately, under his _boot_.” He paused as he reached Loki on the stairs, who practically vibrated with curiosity of the foreign emissaries. “My son, Loki,” the king introduced with a large hand brushing over Loki’s jewel-braided hair. “He tells me that Jotunheimr is rich in resources of the earth, though not the resources that would feed Utgard’s starving families in the winter. He believes that our wealth is beneath our feet, and in the strong bodies of our laborers. Loki,” he continues, voice booming in the hall, “tells me that the other realms would value such riches, and would, in exchange, offer their own, their crops and their livestock to feed Utgard’s winter-starved. Loki,” Laufey looked down at the prince, “has been correct. I have left the dealing with the realms in his hands, Lady Sif, and should Odin have any other inquiries, they shall be directed to the Jotun prince, my Foreign Adviser.” He turned and resumed his seat on his throne, lounging back against the cool ice. “Your party should stay as long as you like, Lady Sif. Accommodations will be made for you. Loki will be your host. You are dismissed.”

The prince rose as the ambassadors bowed and followed them out of the hall. The doors closed behind them, and he offered his hand to the visitors in greeting. “Formal introductions aside, I am Loki. I’m sure you will find Jotun hospitality quite a bit… warmer, than you may have expected.” His eyes sparkled brilliantly in the filtered light and a smirk played across his lips.

"Not a wordsmith!" The blonde swordsman groaned and covered his face with his hands as the large man burst with laughter and clapped his friend on the back.

The Lady Sif ignored her companions and gripped Loki’s hand in a firm grip. He reveled in how easily her palm fit into his own. “We shall see, Prince Loki. Perhaps Asgard would be open to some dealings with King Laufey’s Foreign Adviser.”

Loki smiled. “I am open to any discussions with you, Lady Sif. Please, right this way,” he stated simply as his led them into the core of Utgard. The blonde groaned again.

"Quiet, Fandral, or I will give you something to truly bemoan," scolded the shieldmaiden, and Loki felt a stirring in his gut.

Yes, the Lady Sif was anything but frail.


	21. Death in the House of Odin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a long while back, mykingdomforapen won second place in the 400th follower contest, and I never fulfilled one of her promised prizes: a prompt of her choice. Sorry it took so long, but here’s your reward — it caused me severe emotional pain, so I hope you enjoy it. It’s quite obviously canon-divergent, but I could only deal with one death in the House of Odin so.
> 
> I don't know why it's taken me so long to post this to AO3, but here you go!
> 
> Warning: sibling feelings

Loki’s hands hovered over his brother’s slack face. The younger (living) brother’s eyes were wide with shock, and his breath lodged in his throat like a hot fire prod.

Thor was dead.

He knew, on some level, that the battle still raged around them – the faint clang of sword upon shield and war screams echoed around him, but the meaning of the sounds did not register with his brother lying there (cold, _so cold_ ) before him, Mjölnir lodged in Loki’s assailant’s skull and Loki’s assailant’s blade sheathed so cleanly into his heart. Slowly, ever so slowly, his trembling fingers traced his brother’s cheeks and cupped his face gently. Loki dropped his forehead to his brother’s, and his tears finally spilled off of his lashes and onto Thor’s rapidly chilling cheeks. He blinked, and the surroundings rushed back, yells and thuds of mêlée and his older brother’s unnaturally still body in his hands.

 “You fool,” he whispered, his voice cracking with grief, “everyone knows your life is far more valuable that mine.”

The echoes of combat had come to cease, and the crunch of rock under hard-soled boot approached. He cradled Thor’s golden head to his shoulder and shook with repressed sobs. Whoever happened upon them could do as they wished. Carefully, a shaking hand smoothed over his arched back to his shoulder, pulling him back into a metal-plated chest. The shocked cries above did not resonate with him as much as the barely-breathed words of his captor.

“Oh, Thor.” Another hand, slighter than his, pressed into his brother’s sun-kissed locks. A beat of silence passed before the hand was removed and the other figures moved to grasp Thor and pull him away.

An alien scream wrenched from Loki’s throat, and he threw himself against the strong grasp of his captor. “No! You can’t take him, _you can’t_ —” He reached out toward his brother, who was being swept up in the large man’s grasp. “You can’t just _take_ him, _stop—!”_

“Loki! Loki, we aren’t taking him anywhere, Loki, please,” his captor begged, her voice breaking between pleas. She wrapped an arm in a firm chokehold and with the other brought up a hand to caress his face, her thumb moving in practiced motions across his cheekbone. She held him through his cries. “Loki, it’s us, it’s Sif, we’re going to take you home. Please,” she whispered brokenly, and he stopped scrambling at her confining arm, “we’re going to go home.” He gasped in air, strung out from his panic, and tucked his head below her chin.

“And Thor?” If it were any other time, he would be surprised at how small and boy-like his voice sounded. “My brother?”

Sif took a shaky breath and pushed her face into his hair. “He’s going home, too.” 

“I don’t want to leave him.”

"Alright.”

“I can’t leave him–”

“You won’t, I promise. Come, let’s go to the Bifrost site.” She moved her arms down to his chest and levered him to his feet. Loki walked at her side, guided by her arm secured around his waist. His feet felt like lead. His eyes never left the red cloaked form in Volstagg’s grip.

“Heimdall,” he heard called faintly, “please retrieve us.”

“Wait,” he remembered murmuring, “the hammer—”

“It is fine, Loki,” Sif soothed. “It is not going anywhere. No one can move it. It will be fine.”

The blinding light cut off any protest.

* * *

The next days and nights passed in a blur. Funeral preparations, succession rights, Thor’s mortal friends –

Jane, and her daughter by Thor.

Loki sat dazed through it all, hardly registering the passing of time. Only Sif and Frigga could break his catatonia for a spell, running careful hands over his pale face to coax him back to the real world to ensure he at least ate. After the plate was emptied, however, his eyes glazed, and his mind was once more realms away on a black soiled battlefield.

The night of the funeral, he followed his mother’s lead to the cliffs. Loki did not glimpse Odin; from what he could remember of the past few days, he had not seen his father at all (his father probably had not seen him, either, but truly who could hold him accountable for that).

The prince felt a small but strong hand grip his elbow, and he turned to meet his brother’s consort. “I know what happened, Loki,” she murmured, her mouth in a grim line. “I know how he died.” He stiffened. Of course she did. He wanted to push her away, to retreat back into himself once more, but her insistent tugging on his arm pulled him back to the presence. “I don’t blame you.” He blinked. “He did this for _you_ , so that you could _live_ , not so that you would die as well. He gave you another chance.”

“I’ve had my fair share,” he croaked, the first words to leave his mouth since setting foot in Asgard. “I’ve always wasted them.”

“He always gave you another. Never underestimate how much your brother loved you. But this is the last one he can give, Loki.” Jane’s eyes softened, and a sad smile graced her lips. “Don’t waste it.” She squeezed his arm once more, and moved to his mother’s right, where her daughter gripped her grandmother’s skirts. She gathered her into her arms and stood regally alongside Frigga, with all the bearing of a queen. She would have been one, Loki remembered, had Odin allowed her and Thor to be wed.

 _One last chance,_ he pondered as they released the lights accompanying Thor into the golden halls of Valhalla.

He felt a hand slip into his own, and he turned to Sif gratefully.

_I think I can manage that._


	22. Ventures in Diplomacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of "Fragility Redefined," as requested by some on Tumblr!

Loki shielded his eyes from the blinding rays that assaulted his senses. When he had agreed to lead a delegation to Asgard, he had hardly paid any thought to a trip via the Bifrost. Presently, of course, it seemed the obvious form of transportation, but he had been so enthralled at the thought of visiting Sif’s homeland that he had given it no heed.

Sif.

The lady warrior (“Shieldmaiden is the proper term, Prince Loki.”) had returned to Jotunheimr multiple times since her initial visit. She took her role of ambassador quite seriously, taking care to learn the culture and customs of Utgard and its surrounding settlement. She was often accompanied by one or two of her male warrior friends who, when outfitted appropriately, also enjoyed their stays in the capital. Sif would often leave them for hunts with Loki’s brethren, who had grown fond (well, as fond as a large, scowling Frost Giant could be) of her, or pursue Loki’s quiet company in his offices or libraries. She was fascinated by the Jotun’s method of record keeping: as the ironwood was too hard to form into paper and parchment did not hold well under the wet cold of their climate, all Jotun literature and records were kept on “tomes” of the Living Words, stone slabs which sprang to life at Loki’s touch, surrounding them in script. Apparently, magic was not so freely practiced in Asgard, and its nature and exercise awed her. In her visits, Loki had shown her his mastery of the arcane often, enjoying the way her eyes filled with curiosity.

During their time together, the pair had become close, and, when she had mentioned a good-will party visiting the lux halls of Asgard, he had leaped at the chance. Laufey had been exceptionally more difficult to convince. The thought of his son and heir venturing into the halls of his greatest enemy was one he had not particularly wished to entertain. After weeks of persuasion, as well as reassurances from the much-endeared Sif, the king had relented, with the conditions of a hand-picked guards and a month-long trip, at the very longest. Sif and her companions had returned to Asgard ahead of them to make preparations as Laufey and Loki assembled their delegation.

As the bright light cleared from his vision, Loki lifted the hand from his eyes only to be greeted by the sight of a warrior wielding a broadsword before him. The warrior placed the sword point-down on the golden floor and folded his hands atop the pommel. “I am Heimdall,” his deep voice resonated within the chamber, and Loki could feel its timbre in his bones, “and I am the Guardian of this realm and of the Bifrost. It is my duty and pleasure to welcome you, Prince Loki of the House of Hard Winter, and your entourage to Asgard. An escort awaits you on the bridge.”

“Well met, and thank you, Heimdall,” Loki gave a slight inclination of his head. “You bring your post honor.” He strode forward from the chamber and laid his eyes upon the realm eternal for the first time.

Asgard, true to Sif’s stories, rose golden and proud above the thundering falls that emptied into the stars around them. Towers pierced the sky, with none quiet so impressive as what he assumed to be the royal palace. A multicolored, crystalline structure connected the Bifrost guard post to the city, and Loki watched with avid curiosity as it pulsed with a light and life all its own.

“Hello, there, gentlemen. I hope first trip on the Bifrost wasn’t _too_ nauseating,” a warm voice greeted them. “It can be a bit jolting on the stomach the first few times. Nothing, to be ashamed of, I assure you!” Loki smiled and stepped forward to clasp Fandral’s shoulder with affection that had grown after his numerous visits accompanying the ambassador.

“Of course not, I believe that would give you too much pleasure. Is this the welcoming party Asgard presents to us? A frivolous swordsman who wished such ills upon one called friend?”

Fandral laughed and returned his grin. “What a welcoming committee, indeed! Hi-ho there, Helblindi, Skörsag! They let you brutes on this venture as well?” Loki released the blond so he could greet his other friends and drew a deep breath. The air was balmy, thicker than the biting air of his homeland, though not at all unpleasant, and filled his lungs easily. Absently, he pondered the effect it would have on Jotun physique when Fandral’s hand met his furred and ornamented shoulder once more.

“Come, come! It’s quite a walk to the palace, but, unfortunately, we have no steeds to accommodate the size of your kin. At least you will gain a grander perspective of Asgard on foot, hm?”

Indeed, he did. His winter-hardened body gave no rejection to the distance or pace of their walk, and he was able to look upon the reactions of the common Ӕsir. Surprisingly, he did, in fact, feel quite welcomed; the district along the main promenade seemed fit to burst with merchants and guilds, and their warm reception lead Loki to believe that the people would welcome the new trading opportunities found with the Jotunar. He felt a few distrustful gazes upon his back, but he had anticipated as much, considering the strife-torn history between their peoples.

Instead, he ignored their caution and disdain, and smiled his least-frosty smile at the small children that hid, giggling and whispering, behind their mothers’ skirts. Loki could understand why – their delegation was a sight to behold. His party consisted of five of their finest scholars, three enterprising craftsmen, and eight strong and battle-tested guards, with himself at the head of the column, every one of them blue-skinned and adorned in fine furs and leathers. His typical ornaments – the jewel-braided hair, polished onyx stones draped around his neck – as well as his ceremonial steel circlet marked him apart from the others in his entourage.

As they approached the palace, a nervous warmth heated his palms and fingertips. This trip could either mark the resurgence of Jotun trade with the known realms or the utter failure of foreign relations, setting Jotunheimr once again down a path of stagnant progress. He had warned and vetted each and every member of his party against conflict, but he could not help the anxiety filling his gut.

“We will continue to the main hall,” Fandral prompted, bringing the prince out of his thoughts. “There, you will be formally introduced to the King, Queen, and Thor – their son, brilliant ray of sunshine but a prince nonetheless, and someone I am proud to call friend. Then, I’ll show you to your quarters, and someone will gather you for the festivities tonight, where you can wag that silver tongue of yours and charm some ladies for yourself and your dearest friend who came all the way to the Bifrost to receive you. All sound agreeable?”

Loki shook his head in amusement. “You once bemoaned the fact that I am a wordsmith.”

“I have since seen the error of my ways. Now, shall we go forth?” Without pausing for a response, Fandral led the company through a columned promenade, nodding to clustered groups of giggling court ladies along the way. Eventually, they entered the fortress and followed the straightforward path to the audience chamber, though Loki snuck glances down corridors they passed along the way; he was eager for the time when he would be allowed to explore them all. The halls became more and more grand as they neared their destination, and it did not surprise Loki in the least when they arrived before a tall set of doors with intricate knotwork and runes running over their golden surface and paused. Fandral nodded to the stationed guards and flashed a grin back to his friend. “This is where I shall leave you… I dare say that you can handle introductions far better than I ever could.”

“You have my thanks,” Loki returned. He took a deep breath, pushing back any nerves that had resurfaced, and looked to the sentries. “If you would,” he murmured.

The guards nodded in acknowledgement, and together banged their fists against the great doors twice, then pressed them open to reveal the throne room.

The staggered sides of the chamber were filled to the brim with members of the Ӕsir court, all eager to catch a glimpse of the party from the frozen world. As he stepped forth and descended the stairs, the hum of chatter filled the room. He ignored the murmurs and pressed forward, his furs sweeping the floor behind him.

At the far end of the hall, a grand throne was raised on a dais, upon which a severe older man – whom he assumed to be Odin, the king – sat in his gold armor and helm. To his right, a lovely woman, wrapped in silks and crystals in a palette that reminded Loki of the first stars emerging at sunset, stood with a welcoming smile on her lips. To the king’s left, a large man, cloaked in crimson, seemed barely able to contain his excitement upon laying eyes on his visitors.

_Ah,_ he thought to himself, measuring up the blond and comparing him to Sif’s stories, _that must be Prince Thor._

Loki came to a stop at the bottom of the dais. Odin stood from his seat, and the chatter in the hall immediately ceased. For a long moment, neither leader spoke, until Loki bent at the waist in deference to his host. He heard the members of his delegation do likewise, though the prince never removed his gaze from the Allfather. “Odin Allfather, I would like to extend my most humble gratitude. It is my greatest honor to come to your home and hearth and to witness the splendors of the Realm Eternal.”

“It has been many a year since these halls have seen an ambassador from Jotunheimr,” Odin’s voice cracked through the air, his tone wary, though not unkind. “Let introductions be made so that I might know whom I am addressing.”

Loki straightened and held his head high. Formalities had been met, and he returned to his regal bearings. “I am Prince Loki Laufeyson of the House of Hard Winter, first of his name, Chief Foreign Advisor to King Laufey, Master Sorcerer of the Academy, crown prince and heir to the throne of Utgard. I come as an ambassador of goodwill and exchange with my delegation of scholars and entrepreneurs in hopes of gaining a greater understanding between our realms, so that one day our relationship may once again be that of friends.” He gestured outwardly, a controlled movement to instill trust. “Much has changed in our realms in the past years, and it is my dear and honest hope that we have arrived to open minds and the warm Ӕsir hospitality so often spoken of in other realms.”

Odin’s lone eye sized him up before turning to the assorted court. “These delegates have arrived for Ӕsir hospitality. Surely we can surpass the rumors they have heard. Tonight, we shall feast in honor of the royal Prince Loki and formally welcome him to the Ӕsir court.” A cheer arose in the chamber, echoing out to the rest of the palace. Loki smiled despite himself, allowing the applause to wash over him and settle like a cloak over his shoulders. Odin raised a hand, and the clamor died down again, though the air this time was distinctly more welcoming than before. “Before I release you to your rooms, allow me to introduce my wife, Queen Frigga, and my son, Thor, who has heard much about you from our own ambassador. Thor, if you would, escort the ambassador and his entourage to their rooms so that they might prepare for the celebrations tonight.”

Thor nodded and bounded down the steps to the delegation.

“I, Odin Allfather, welcome you to my home. You honor your house with your decorum, and mine with your humility.” The dismissal was clear, and the throne room was once again filled with applause and excited conversation. Thor clasped Loki on the shoulder and steered them back through the great doors, where Fandral waited with a grin.

“Did my ears deceive me, or did our king just call you, the most prideful being I have ever met in any of my travels, _humble_?”

Loki snickered. “You call my tongue silver, though it seems that my words are more honeyed than sharp, and yet still you act surprised.”

Thor rumbled with laughter. “Fandral is only envious of their reception, I am sure. Many a time I and my friends have been hauled before my father for a lecture which could have been averted if we had a wordsmith within our ranks,” he admitted.

Fandral puffed out his chest. “I was well aware of our vacancy, and look!” He gestured to Loki, who crossed his arms across his chest in amusement. “I found us a wordsmith!”

“Sif will not take kindly to you claiming her accomplishments,” the Jotun prince warned teasingly. Fandral considered this for a moment, then turned on his heel to lead the delegation away from the throne room.

“I’ll take my chances!”

As they walked, Thor kept himself close to Loki’s side, his curiosity abundant and good nature infectious. Fandral guided them through the winding halls, pausing now and then to point out the kitchens, the training yard, and – much to Loki’s excitement – the library. When they reached the guest suites, they showed the guards to their chambers at the mouth of the corridor and deposited the craftsmen and scholars into their rooms. Loki’s suite lay at the far end of the corridor, and, when they left the prince to his business, Thor winked and clapped him on the arm. “I will see you at dinner, if your surprise does not keep you too long.”

Before Loki could respond, Fandral and Thor trotted down the hallway, sniggering between themselves like children. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly; it was little wonder why everyone spoke so highly of the Ӕsir prince. He had known Thor all of half an hour, and already Loki felt himself being pulled into his orbit.

He let himself in to his chambers, absently noting that someone had retrieved his luggage from the Observatory and had piled it neatly in his new rooms. He shrugged out of his cloak with a relieved sigh.

“Well,” Loki nearly jumped out of his blue skin at the sudden word, and spun to see who it was encroaching on his privacy, “that took significantly longer than I had initially thought.” He took in the figure lounging at his desk and relaxed completely, allowing a wide grin to stretch his lips. “It’s been a while, Loki.”

“It’s good to see you, Sif.” He strode over and pulled the woman into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly before releasing him and stepping back. “So, how does one outfit themselves for a formal feast in Asgard, and am I still allowed my knives on my person?”

Sif smiled and walked over to his luggage. “Oh, Loki, I can already imagine the mischief you will make here. Asgard has been rather dull as of late.”

Loki sat heavily on his bed and leaned back on his hands. “I’ll see what I can do.” Sif laughed and tossed a garment at his head.

“Welcome to Asgard, _your highness_ ,” she smirked. He returned the expression.

“Happy to finally be here, Lady Sif.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Been writing these for awhile and am only just now posting them up here, so don't be surprised to see sudden writing style changes... in fact, expect them. Maybe I'll re-write some of them eventually... but probably not, because I'm extremely lazy and forgetful.
> 
> Cross-posted with ff.net and the fyeahlokisif tumblr. Suggestions and requests always welcome!


End file.
